Pecking Order
by Joydrop
Summary: More yaoi than you can shake a naked Midvalley at. Which is quite a bit, trust me.
1. Knives & Legato

warning : If you didn't see it before, you'll have a chance to see it now - there's YAOI! This fic is nothing but YAOI (okay so I snuck in a dab of yuri but blink and you'll miss it)! Lots of guys doing lots of things to other guys. Don't like the idea of Wolfwood and Vash getting it on? That's fine, don't read it. It's just that simple. Feel free to totally ignore this warning and roast my ass with flames anyways though. God knows it happens enough to authors far more talented than I. Also various and major spoilers for the series abound i.e. if you don't know who/what Knives or Chapel are, you probably shouldn't go further than this.  
  
disclaimer : Characters don't belong to me. If they did, the Trigun universe would be quite scarily different and I'd be doing cartwheels of glee.  
  
note : I do some manga/anime crosses in this, but it's mostly the anime, with a slightly screwed up time line (need Knives outta the lightbulb here...). Most little tweaks where I randomly toss in the manga are noted at the start of each chapter.  
  
The entire idea for this fic/group of fics (chapters could stand alone, really) as well as the title came from a realization that dawned on me while I was writing up a little thing on the general Trigun fandom for a buddy. The usual yaoi pairings were a straight line :  
  
Knives -- Legato -- Midvalley -- Wolfwood -- Vash  
  
Or a pecking order, if you will. (Poor Vash....)  
  
random :  
  
"precious burden I capture deep inside  
what would my life be without pain in me  
  
rely on what you need, devour what you feed  
'cause what I try to breed is me in you  
there's no one else to blame, this is my favorite pain  
and all I want to gain is myself in you"  
  
- Enter My Mind, by Drain STH  
  
fic :  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
It was silent, except for the soft sound of breathing.  
  
Knives was reclined across the room in a chair, one leg bent up with his elbow resting on the knee. His mouth, hidden by a gloved hand, was curved downwards slightly in thought.  
  
Cold blue eyes watched the human laying quietly across the room.  
  
He was perfect.  
  
Legato sighed quietly in admiration. It was easier, and much more pleasant, to admire his Master's still form in the lamplight than it was to concentrate on his own current position. He had been elated when Master had called for him. Surprised when Master had told him to strip. Obeyed when Master had told him to lay down on his stomach on the plain bed.  
  
He wondered if Master was displeased with him. He'd been disgusted -- the _look_ on His face was burned into Legato's memory -- once He had found what Legato had been trying desperately to hide. His thoughts, desires, foolish human hopes all centering around this wondrous creature. He hadn't kept them from Master out of any sense of rebellion or 'self' -- never! -- but for His own sake. He'd know that if Master was to find out, He would be horrified.... That had been two days ago. Now they watched each other across the small room, the small space separating God and man.  
  
Knives shifted and Legato's eyes light up. Perhaps he would come over, come close. Even if it was for a beating, even if it was for a punishment; to have Master's attention focused solely on him, if only for a moment, would be bliss. Even as he was vaguely worried and quietly upset over making Master angry, he'd been incredibly happy this entire time. Not that He was disgusted, no, but that He was watching _him_. His attention was not on His accursed brother, but on _him_. Legato Bluesummers.  
  
He was moving again.  
  
Knives stood lazily, gaze never seeming to shift away from the human's own adoring stare. Slowly, far too slowly for Legato, he walked across the floor silently to the bed and stood there. There was another long, silent moment as the two looked at each other before Knives turned, sitting on the edge of bed with his back to Legato.  
  
Legato clenched the bed sheets between his fingers, knuckles almost white. Master was so close.... He could feel the slight warmth generated by the other being, it being heightened more than usual due to his lack of clothing. To feel that warmth, to touch the heat he knew was the heart of his Master, usually hidden by cold eyes and actions.... It was torture to not touch.  
  
"Legato."  
  
"Yes, Master?" His voice was soft, small. Almost like a child's, knowing it had done something awful and now waiting to see what punishment it would receive.  
  
"What do you think of me?" Knives asked smoothly. If Legato was the child, Knives was the teacher posing questions to his class of nervous brats. He waited patiently for an answer as Legato's mind tackled the simple question.  
  
Knives was.... his Master was.... an angel, perfect, God, the world, everything, perfect, cold, hot, a plant, alive, perfect, his, unmarred, kind, cruel, perfect....  
  
"Perfect," Legato said reverently. It was truly the only word to describe Master. He could see Knives' lips jerk upwards at that before his features smoothed out again and he turned halfway on the bed.  
  
Legato flexed his fingers against the sheets.  
  
It was torture.  
  
"Do you know what I think of you?" Knives asked, patient. Legato's brow furrowed slightly in thought. He didn't dare to be so impudent as to say he knew what his Master thought, about _any_ subject, but he didn't think it was a rhetorical question either. He should answer.... but what should he say? As Legato's mind worked at that question, and at the others his own brain drudged up, Knives reached over slowly to trace a gloved fingertip along the human's spine. Legato gasped at the touch, arching immediately. Knives made a face and the hand was drawn away. "I didn't say you could move," he said sharply. Legato whimpered a bit but stilled and the light touch returned as his reward.  
  
The blue haired man continued to think for a moment, trying to focus on the question knowing how displeased Master would be if he did not answer. It was proving to be difficult though with that ghost of a touch, that slight warmth, moving over his sensitive skin. "I.... do not know what you think of me, Master," he said finally.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Mm. Roll over onto your side, facing me."  
  
Legato obeyed and the touch slid. Knives' palm brushed briefly over his arm before it became just the single, gloved fingertip again tracing over his ribs. "Why did you try and hide such things from me, Legato?"  
  
"I-I...."  
  
"Don't stutter."  
  
"I'm sorry, Master."  
  
"Well?" Knives sounded less patient, and much more cutting, this time. Legato shivered slightly and the touch was taken away again. He almost mewled in need.  
  
"I.... I did not wish to disgust you," he said finally.  
  
"Oh?" Once Legato's shivering stopped, the gentle tracing began again, dipping over and along his stomach. He fought to keep the muscles still under the teasing, not wanting the gentle warmth from a man usually as cold as glass to be taken away for the third time. Knives watched him, almost calculatingly, his expression relatively unreadable to the human next to him. They remained, watching each other in the silence again, both almost perfectly still save for Knives' tracings and Legato's slightly quick breathing. The blue haired man's hands were clenched into fists, not trusting himself otherwise. Master was so, so close.... He wanted to reach out and touch Him, so very badly.... feel the material of His usual outfit under his palm, run his fingers through that blonde hair so pale it was almost white, feel His lips crush his own..... he wanted.... he wanted....  
  
"Legato," Knives' voice was calm again and Legato almost sighed in relief. He hated it when Master was unhappy. "I'm going to ask you another question and I want you to respond honestly, alright?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What is it you want?"  
  
That was easy. Of course, Legato wanted many, many things. But each and everyone one of those things centered around what he really wanted. What he needed. But.... would Master be upset again? Legato almost frowned at the thought. He didn't wish to do that again.... but He had to said to be honest....  
  
"You, Master."  
  
There was a sharp inhalation of breath from Knives and the finger's exploring, lazy tracings stopped completely for a moment. "I see," Knives said after the short pause. He placed his hand then, palm down, on Legato's side and it took every bit of control the human had not to shudder in rapture. The patch of warmth slid down his dark side slowly, coming to rest on his hip. As Legato was trying to register this, this sudden kindness and warmth from the being he worshipped with every piece of his broken soul, he noticed that Knives had shifted a bit again and was now leaning in over him. All Legato would have to do was bring his head up, just a little, and their lips could meet.... He almost shuddered again at the thought, repressing it thoroughly, not wanting his Knives-sama to leave. Not now. Not ever.  
  
"Was there anything in particular you wanted, Legato?" Knives sounded oddly curious.  
  
If he just leaned in, a little more.... just a little more....  
  
"M-Master... please..." Legato's voice broke on the words. He couldn't stand it. He wanted, no, he needed.... he needed so very badly....  
  
"Please what, Legato?" Knives' breath fanned out over the other's lips. He was so close....  
  
"P-Please," Legato pleaded, "Please, Master.... just.... just a kiss.... please...." He was gasping slightly in between his words. All Master would have to do was lean in, just a little more and close that tiny, tiny space that was yet somehow far too wide. The anticipation was killing him, slowly but surely, like a cigarette. For a gaze so cold, Legato knew His lips would burn him to ash, waiting to be flicked away. That was fine. He could die, more than happily, if Master would just touch him, just this once.  
  
Knives' eyes softened slightly and Legato's breath caught in his throat at the sight. Master was so beautiful, so perfect....  
  
"A kiss....?" Legato gave a quiet noise of affirmation. The blonde leaned in, just a bit more, and Legato's heart stopped as their lips almost brushed. Master was going to.... his lips parted and....  
  
"Keep hoping."  
  
The door slammed. 


	2. Legato & Midvalley

He paced, almost as if caged. He was actually, Midvalley supposed, watching his blue haired 'leader' as he moved. He was after all stuck here. With us. With him.  
  
Though the sax player doubted Legato minded the last one at all.  
  
Giving a small sigh, knowing there was a fifty-fifty chance that he'd seriously regret opening his mouth in the next moment, Midvalley set his whiskey glass aside. "Legato-sama," he said, hating the honorific even as it left his lips, "May I ask why you're so upset?" He never spoke more politely to anyone than Legato. Even to Knives, because then he didn't speak. He really didn't trust himself too. How could he be sure he wouldn't slip up and call that blonde.... thing.... what he really was?  
  
Legato didn't pause, simply glanced at him with those golden eyes before looking forward again, lost in whatever thoughts a psychopath thinks. Midvalley made a face and picked up his glass, taking a slow sip. Legato was starting to remind Midvalley of a tiger -- he'd never seen one alive, of course, and most people said animals like those didn't really exist -- but he'd seen pictures and heard stories when he was still young. They were supposed to be powerful, big cats, with eyes that could freeze anything or anyone dead in their tracks. They had been apparently kept in cages in.... zoos was it? Or was it something else? Well, whatever it was, they had been kept in cages along with other beasts and would apparently pad silently back and forth, waiting for someone stupid enough to stick an arm inside the iron bars.  
  
Midvalley was definitely not plant engineer material but he wasn't stupid enough to move close to something agitated that had the ability to rip off your arm. Or your head.  
  
Midvalley noticed with a bit of a start, as he'd been musing about tigers and zoos and loosing limbs, that Legato had finally stopped pacing. Those golden eyes were staring at him and Midvalley stared back from over the clear rim of his glass.  
  
"You're just a human, like the rest of them," Legato said after the silence had stretched out.  
  
The dark haired man's lips twitched downwards slightly and he ignored the strong urge to reply 'So are you'. Very little got the psychopath as easily upset as being reminded that he was a human, unless it was Knives doing the reminding. He seemed to soak it up then, like a city soaks up a plant's energy. Midvalley doubted that sort of masochistic streak could be healthy. Of course, none of them were very mentally stable when you got right down to it.  
  
"Ah, I am," he replied easily, draining his glass. It wasn't like he was going to argue with an obvious fact. And he, for one, had no problems with being human. It was damn well better to be a dirty human than it was a fucking monster, in his opinion.  
  
Legato stared at him for another long moment and Midvalley continued to stare back idly. It certainly wasn't one of those subtle contest of wills, he thought to himself, it was just that there wasn't much else to look at. The Gung-Ho-Guns seemed to stay in varying places of luxury; Legato usually took care of it with one of his mind control tricks and even if he wasn't there, the Guns could usually scam or murder their ways into a decent hotel room for as long as they wished. The place they were staying at was pretty nice; good food, huge beds and no bugs crawling in the bathroom. Not bad at all. And not a place Midvalley enjoyed being in. He suspected it came from the years of being a simple musician, before he'd discovered his, ah, talent. Then he'd always been in small, poorly-lit rooms that usually reeked of smoke and sex. Those were the days.  
  
The blue haired man began to move again, startling Midvalley from his thoughts as he noticed Legato was moving towards him instead of resuming his pacing. The horn player blinked a bit, leaning back further on his stool and setting the empty glass down on the mini bar next to him. "Is something the matter, Legato-sama?"  
  
"Ah. Something is." There was a certain dark merriment tainting those words, causing Midvalley to move back further still until his shoulders bumped the wall lightly. When Legato sounded like that, it meant one of two things. One, he had just found a new and creative way to make Vash the Stampede suffer. Two, someone was going to die in a very bloody fashion. Noting that neither the blonde outlaw nor anyone else was around, Midvalley was growing nervous.  
  
"Which would be....?" he asked, keeping his voice as even as possible.  
  
"Pointless to explain," Legato said calmly, placing a hand on the wall next to the saxophone player's head. "Are you afraid, Midvalley?"  
  
The man in question swallowed hard. Wasn't there some sort of saying about animals being able to smell fear....? "Sir?"  
  
Legato's eyes narrowed faintly, even as his lips twisted upwards. "You are."  
  
Midvalley let out a sigh, annoyed suddenly by his almost grinning companion. Yes, he was afraid. Anyone in their right mind would be with an insane man wearing a skull on an immaculately clean -- Knives wouldn't stand for anything less than perfect -- white jacket leaning in over them. However, he wasn't about to admit it. "Legato-sama, it's late. If it's alright with you, I'd like to get some sleep now."  
  
"It's not alright with me."  
  
What the hell WAS this? Midvalley fumed silently. He didn't dare voice it, didn't dare strike out. Even if he had his saxophone on him, even if he hadn't stupidly left his gun in the jacket hanging so far away by the door, Legato could still easily kill him. At least, it seemed, that wasn't what he had in mind. Legato wasn't one to usually beat around the bush when it came to snuffing out a life. Maybe a little verbal torture and then boom -- dead. Was he just trying to scare him then? If that was the plan, then it was working damn well, Midvalley thought with a frown.  
  
"You look upset." The chuckle was there again, rippling through Legato's words. "It's a rather pleasing sight," Legato said, his other hand reaching to cup Midvalley's jaw in gentle but strong fingers. His thumb flickered up to rub over his cheek and the blue haired man almost purred. "Very pleasing."  
  
Midvalley blinked for a moment, it taking him a second to realize what was going on and that he wasn't being hurt. For the time being, anyways. Still.... He jerked his head back from the touch, it meeting the wall with a solid thump. A dull pain sprung up along his skull, but it was a shallow hurt. "I don't swing that way," he said.  
  
"Liar." Legato was laughing silently at him. "I know exactly how you feel about that minister in black."  
  
"A-Ah...." Midvalley gaped for a moment in surprise before shaking his head. "It's not like that."  
  
"Liar," Legato repeated coldly, hand cupping his chin again. "So why don't we make a deal, hm?" It sounded more like a rhetorical question than a real offer. Midvalley frowned again and decided to take the bait despite his better judgement.  
  
"A deal....?" It sounded like a trap, but still.... God only knew how easily Legato could simply _take_ what he wanted; no apologies, no soft words, no deals. So a deal.... A give and a take. This was good, or at least damn well better than the other option.  
  
"You give me what I want," Legato said, leaning in to brush his lips over the other man's, "and I'll give you what you want."  
  
"What I want?" He knew damn well what -- no.... _who_ he wanted. The minister who rang the black funeral bell. The terrorist priest who could be smiling and laughing fondly with a child one moment and gunning down men in cold blood the next. He was interesting. How could anyone be so close to being a living contradiction yet still manage to make perfect sense?  
  
Legato nodded, tilting his head down to plant soft kisses along Midvalley's throat. He grinned a little to himself, enjoying the feel of the other man's pulse quickening underneath his lips. "Mm."  
  
"I.... I don't want...."  
  
"He won't be hurt. Much," Legato said, adding the word almost as an after thought, "So don't worry your pretty little head over it."  
  
'Pretty'? Screw being polite. "Bast--" The insult was cut off as Legato moved back up, capturing Midvalley's lower lip between his teeth. /Quiet now,/ Legato's voiced echoed through his mind almost mockingly, /You wouldn't want to one of the others to come running in here, now would you?/  
  
No.... that wouldn't be good. The Guns weren't actively out for each other's blood, but showing a weakness was practically signing your own execution order. It was alright in front of Legato -- he already seemed to know each of them inside and out anyways -- but another Gung-Ho-Gun? He'd pass, thanks.  
  
A dark hand slid down his Midvalley's front, deftly undoing the buttons along the pink shirt. Midvalley wondered absently where Legato got so skilled as the fingers began to move over his flesh. It certainly hadn't been with him and judging from Legato's barely bottled frustration earlier, and now, it sure as hell hadn't been with Knives. The teeth bit down hard, drawing blood and a sharp noise from the brown haired man. /Don't./ The voice was dangerous, cold, and Midvalley got the feeling that he'd just barely escaped with his arm still attached. Or his lip, as the case may be.  
  
Legato's hands and mouth were slow, deliberate, as he seemed to calm down again. Midvalley didn't know where he got his patience. He was mostly used to a relatively quick screw -- okay, so he had lied about swinging that way, so what? It was a free planet -- and he was convinced that Legato was going to drive him insane. Really, what kind of guy took twenty minutes to unbutton a shirt....  
  
Despite his earlier bite and barely concealed threat, Legato was oddly tender. He definitely wasn't after a quick fling, Midvalley decided, so what the hell did the blue haired man want? His hands were so soft and moving so damned slow.... Normally, the hornfreak would've been almost put to sleep at this point, but any time his mind wandered to the smoky eyes of a priest, a sharp bite or smack brought him back to reality. Legato smirked at him, apparently catching one of his thoughts, and then wrapped a strong arm under his legs and the other around his chest, lifting him.  
  
Midvalley squawked and waved his arms a little, smacking the other man in the head in the process. "Put me down, damn it!!" If Legato wanted a lay, that was fine. Wanted a whore for the night? Fine, he could do that really well. However, he wasn't some slender, pretty faced uke like in those girl's comics!  
  
Legato smirked again darkly, ignoring Midvalley's protests, and carried the struggling man over to the bed. Midvalley was dropped with a soft 'oof', bouncing a moment on the expensive mattress. He glared up at Legato who was casually removing his coat. "We're doing this," Legato began, voice emotionless, neutral, "on my terms." Midvalley moved back on the bed, finding himself oddly nervous at those words, as Legato prowled over to him.  
  
The slow, teasing touches began again and the horn player bit down on his own tongue -- his lip had suffered enough for the night -- hard to stifle his cries. Quiet.... quiet.... Legato's soft laughter echoed in his mind.  
  
/Sshh./  
  
A long, elegant leg pushed between his own and Midvalley attempted to pull back, to get away, but was held tight. /Don't forget our deal, Hornfreak. Give me too much trouble and I'll still give you your priest, but don't expect him to be in one piece./ Those words, flashed along with a rather disturbing mental image, were enough to get Midvalley to hold still as Legato easily removed the rest of his clothing.  
  
It wasn't that he didn't, on some level, want it or enjoy it.... It was just that, again, anyone in their right mind would be afraid of this purring psychopath. But Legato hadn't done anything to _seriously_ hurt him -- scare him, sure, but not hurt him -- and it wasn't like the leader of the Gung-Ho-Guns was horribly ugly or deformed. 'Horrifyingly handsome.' Even that bandit, weeks ago along with the rest of his idiot gang, had noticed it. Midvalley absently wondered if Knives ever had.  
  
But that wasn't the problem. The problem was well.... he was nervous. He felt like a fucking virgin and that was an experience he hadn't had in a very long time. He wasn't sure why, but as much as he did enjoy Legato's lips moving in a wet trail along his chest, part of him kept repeating 'no no no' over and over in the back of his mind, almost like the beating of a drum.  
  
/It's because you're afraid./  
  
Midvalley really, really wished Legato would stop doing that. It was creepy. "Wh-What?" He panted softly, feeling almost dizzy.  
  
/You're not used to being under someone else's control,/ Legato continued to explain in the Midvalley's mind as his hands dipped low on the naked body underneath him, /You're used to being your own person. You're used to thinking what you will. You're used to doing what you will. That has been your biggest fault as a Gung-Ho-Gun. That ends today./  
  
Midvalley growled a little and was about to respond to that before he found himself biting his tongue again harshly as Legato's hand wrapped around his length.  
  
/It ends today./  
  
The pace of their lovemaking, if one could really call it that, increased; Midvalley letting out great sobbing breaths, trying still to be quiet with his arms wrapped tightly around Legato's broad shoulders as that dark hand stroked him. It was about damned time, Midvalley almost growled again mentally, that he started going faster. He was close....  
  
Legato stopped.  
  
Midvalley bit Legato's shoulder hard through the thin material still clothing his broad frame. Legato chuckled a little at that, unexpectedly, and pulled away, releasing the saxophone player who fell onto his back against the mattress with a soft noise. He glared up at the other man who simply chuckled again.  
  
"Fucking bastard," Midvalley hissed.  
  
"Don't get me wrong," Legato said, looking oddly amused, "I'm not done with you yet." Midvalley blinked a little before realization dawned on him as he watched Legato tug off his dark shirt.   
  
He scrambled back against the bed again, the strange nervousness coursing through him, before he paused, gaping openly at Legato's left arm as it was revealed. It was strange.... It definitely wasn't his; the skin tone wasn't quite a match and it had obviously been surgically attached somehow. "Hey, what's....?"  
  
Legato's eyes slitted in what Midvalley could only assume was remembrance of a fond memory. "A gift from my Master," he almost purred, bringing his left hand up to his lips to gently lick it's palm. Midvalley watched, fascinated and disgusted -- it was like watching a sand steamer plow off a steep cliff. Legato nuzzled the odd hand for another moment before seeming to return his attention back to his current situation and Midvalley.  
  
He smirked for a moment before removing the rest of his clothing, prowling across the bed on all fours after the horn player who was still in almost shock at Legato's actions and words. He reached for Midvalley with his left hand and the dark haired man physically winced, moving away again. It didn't take a freaking genius to piece together who the original owner of that limb had been when it a 'gift' from Knives. Legato smirked again and wrapped it around Midvalley who whimpered a little. Yes, he prided himself on being pretty open minded -- really, look at some of the people he worked with -- but this.... the flesh of one of those monsters....  
  
Legato wrapped both arms then around the other's waist, pulling him back in close and pressing himself in between Midvalley's legs. Midvalley's 'fight or flight' instinct kicked in suddenly at that. The entire night's cryptic words, threats, bites and touches flooding his senses and the two scuffled a bit; Midvalley mostly kicking and flailing, though still making sure to be relatively quiet, as Legato patiently waited for the other to tire himself out.  
  
Finally, Midvalley stilled, panting and glaring a little at his silent companion. "Are you done now?" Legato asked, raising an eyebrow. The glare sharpened but Midvalley remained still, causing the corners of Legato's lips to quirk upwards. "I'll take that as a 'yes'. I hope you didn't tire yourself out too badly," he continued, picking up a small bottle from the bed sheets. Midvalley didn't have the foggiest idea when it had gotten there, and how it had managed to stay there, but it also certainly wasn't the most pressing concern he had at the moment.  
  
Seeming to go back to his previous habits, Legato's slicked fingers were slow and gentle as they pressed inside of Midvalley. He arched, but didn't struggle. Fighting back didn't seem to be working today.  
  
/You're catching on./  
  
The fingers were removed as Midvalley blinked, trying to figure out what the hell _that_ was supposed to mean, and he barely noticed as Legato tugged his legs up. He did notice, however, when the blue haired man began to push inside of him. Midvalley groaned despite himself and arched again, panting loudly in need.  
  
/Sshh./  
  
"Fuck you," Midvalley gasped.  
  
Legato grinned and pressed inside fully. /You've got it backwards./  
  
The pace was steady, though not quite slow. Legato, while having an enormous amount of control over himself, was still only human. Even if you weren't allowed to say so. Midvalley wrapped his arms back around the other man, focusing on the delicious sensations instead of how deeply disturbed he still was on various levels and Legato's strange behavior. Their breathing both began to turn shallow and quicken, hips meeting hips faster as Legato's control began to shred and Midvalley could feel a familiar heat starting to gather just below his stomach....  
  
When Legato stopped.  
  
The fucking bastard stopped.  
  
Midvalley gaped openly at him, staring and panting. Legato looked back at him, a little sweaty and panting shallowly himself, but otherwise.... in total control. "Was there something you wanted, Midvalley?"  
  
Midvalley did the only thing any self respecting man in his current.... interesting.... position could do.  
  
He rolled his hips coaxingly against the other man, whimpered loudly, lapped the sweat off of Legato's throat, clawed at his back and begged like a dog.  
  
Legato chuckled and kissed along the side of Midvalley's face to his ear. Nuzzling the small lobe, he murmured, "You're really just a human after all." Before Midvalley could respond, though likely not verbally, Legato began to push inside of him again and the saxophone player quickly lost most of his coherent thought.  
  
Legato didn't stop this time.  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
On random note, that I just felt like addressing : While glancing at the reviews for a Midvalley fic here at ff.net, one of the reviewers questioned why people felt that Legato would rape Midvalley. I'm of the opinion that Legato possibly would (although not necessarily -- I personally don't think it would be _rape_ but it all depends on how you interpret the characters) because he's housing a lot of frustration and anger at not getting what he wants from Knives (be it sex, actual care/love from him, whatever. When someone means that much to you, it's nice to know that you're not just trash to them; which Legato sadly is to Knives, imo). Add all of that quiet hurt to a murderous psychopath and you don't have a pretty picture. / end Joydrop's two cents 


	3. Midvalley & Wolfwood

  
This takes place sometime shortly after the Augusta incident in which all of the characters were scattered to the four corners of the planet. My guess was, with Vash suddenly missing, Wolfwood probably headed 'home' to get orders on what to do next, which is why he's with/near the other Guns.  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
If you wanted to know were I was, I couldn't tell you. I knew a few things; I was cold, I had one hell of a headache, I had the weirdest taste in my mouth and I was utterly lost as to what in God's name was going on. Not the best couple of feelings to wake up to, let me tell you. Though I've had worse.   
  
I think.  
  
"You awake there, Nick?"  
  
I'm not sure how long it took me to figure out who it was who'd just spoken but after some squinting and blinking I finally made out the white suit in the corner. It was the Hornfreak.  
  
This both relieved and worried me. Worried me because he was a Gung-Ho-Gun, like me. And people like me don't let murderers, again like me, show a weakness and live. I was a little relieved though because it _was_ Midvalley. He, unlike some of the others, wasn't the type to randomly pick you off just because you happened to be down on your luck a little that day. Piss him off or screw up bad, sure. Couple well placed notes and you're dead. But for something little? Naw. 'sides, he'd always been pretty nice to me. Stuck up for me if I was late to one of the gatherings -- I don't know if he's got some sort of sway with Legato or what, but I think I'm one of the biggest slackers yet I get the least amount of punishment -- and just things like that that you wouldn't expect a killer to do for you. Of course, I'm a killer and I'm sweet to kids. Guess we all have our quirks and soft spots.  
  
I nodded dumbly at his question, not quite trusting my voice yet. He smiled a little at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and made his way across the room to me. I watched him for a moment before glancing around, trying to figure out where I was. It was pretty dark and small. Smelled weird too, but I couldn't place my finger on it. My inspection was cut short as Midvalley knelt in front of me, watching me with those chocolate eyes of his. "How are you feeling?"  
  
I licked my lips and coughed for a moment, trying to clear my throat and mouth of the weird taste. "Like hell," I said, wincing a little at the sound of my own voice. Shit, it sounded like I'd just been trying to gargle with glass shards. "What happened?"  
  
"Well," Midvalley said after a moment, "I'm not entirely sure myself, but it seemed that you got piss drunk and managed to start a fight with the entire bar. I know you can take care of yourself normally, but really Nick.... picking fights while drunk off your ass and without your Punisher? You turning suicidal?"  
  
I blinked at that. Right, I'd gone into a bar and.... Funny, I could've sworn I'd brought my cross with me then.... well, whatever. It explained why I felt so sore and why it seemed like someone was trying to crush my head between two rocks. "No, just stupid I guess." I grinned and he laughs.  
  
"Yeah, I guess." He reached forward to adjust a bandage on my left shoulder and I realize that's why I'm so cold.  
  
"What happened to my shirt?"  
  
"I had to take it off to clean you up, idiot."  
  
Oh. "Oh." I hissed as one of his fingers traced the wound. Man, I must've been really out of it to get this trashed, 'specially by nothing more than a mob of fellow drunks. How I got out of it.... Hey, how did I get out of it? "What happened after I got jumped?"  
  
"You got beat."  
  
Obviously. "I mean, how'd I end up here?"  
  
"Ah, that," he said, rebandaging the torn skin carefully, "I happened to be close by, heard the scuffle and decided at first to join on in. Until I realized they happened to be banging you up so then I took care of them." He shrugged.  
  
"Killed them?"  
  
"Yup," he said casually, putting the bandages back away. Midvalley's the type of guy to always have a first-aid kit tucked away on him, never could figure out why. Guess he likes to be prepared or something.  
  
"Oh.... thanks." It felt weird, still does, to thank someone for killing someone else. But he did save my life, so I should at least thank him for that. Right?  
  
He smiled again then. "What're friends for, eh?" I laughed a little, despite my throat's raw complaint and nod. Midvalley checks me over again, poking lightly here and there. I laughed again as he got my ribs and smacked his hand. This caused an immediate reaction. "Ticklish?" he asked with a grin. Before I could vehemently deny perhaps one of my greatest weaknesses, he was already on top of me, fingers moving over my sides. It was torture; I already felt like I'd had a month's worth of air knocked from my lungs and my head was still pounding and he wouldn't stop until I wheezed for mercy.  
  
"Sorry, that was cruel," Midvalley said, not sounding sorry at all. Smug bastard. So I called him what he is and he laughed. "Yeah yeah. You need anything?"  
  
Water. Sweet, sweet water. Water that cures hang overs. Water that gets rid of the cobwebs in your mouth. Water that.... well, let's just say that I would've handed my soul over to the Devil right that moment for a cool glass of it. "Water," I demanded simply.  
  
He nodded and stood, padding across the floorboards. "I'll be right back, alright?" I nodded in return and he opened the door -- I swear, I thought my head was going to explode when it squeaked -- and walked out, closing it behind himself.  
  
It still smelled funny in there. Maybe something died.  
  
After a moment, in which I wisely spent my time staring blankly at the wall and counting the teeth in my mouth to make sure they were all still there, Midvalley returned with a glass. Bless his saxophone playing soul. I took it from his hands gratefully, ignoring the sharp pain in my shoulder, and gulped it down. He watched me, still smiling, and moved to sit down to my left. He eyed the bandages again before returning his gaze to my face. I guessed at the time that he was just making sure that I wasn't going to pass out for apparently the second time that night.  
  
"Thanks again," I said gratefully, able to recognize my voice for the first time since I woke up in this dark little corner of who-knows-where.  
  
"No problem," Midvalley replied, still smiling. We sat in silence for a while, I don't know how long really, while he kept watching me and I kept half my field of vision on him and the other half on the wall across for me. I don't know why it had become suddenly so fascinating, but there really wasn't much else to look at, other than the man dressed in white and pink to my left. I counted my teeth again, never hurt to double check, licked the last few drops out of the glass and then proceeded to zone out nicely. I think I was almost on the verge of dropping off again, -- hey, I was still sore and had a headache, even if it was receding a little -- when he spoke up.  
  
"What was it like?"  
  
Did he mean the fight? It's not like I could recall it. I remember ordering some drinks, talking to this nice blonde and.... that's about it. Must've gotten smashed in the head too. God. "Got me."  
  
He snorted. "I don't mean what happened tonight. I mean what was it like traveling with the resident boogie-man of our planet?"  
  
Vash? He meant Vash. I think. I must've still had alcohol slugging through my system to be this braindead. It doesn't pay to be a slow thinker in a group of killers. Slower you are, quicker you die.  
  
"You mean Vash?"  
  
"Vash the Stampede, yeah."  
  
"Oh." I thought for a moment, moving my gaze up to the ceiling. It didn't look a whole lot different from the wall. Really, what the hell kind of place was this? You think a guy like Midvalley could afford better. But enough about this smelly, dark little room. Onto the topic in a red coat at hand.  
  
"It's interesting." True. Very, very true. I've been through some weird shit in my life but not much comes close to what I've been through with that Humanoid Typhoon. I admit, I haven't been with him for long, just a couple of 'chance' meetings when our paths crisscrossed, but we've been through a lot. I don't think I'm going to forget fleeing from alien robots with laser beams anytime soon.  
  
"Just interesting?" I thought it was weird at the time that he sounded kind of hopeful. Still do.  
  
"Well...." Where do I start? How much is okay to give away? Midvalley, pal of mine though he may be, is still a Gung-Ho-Gun. He's still one of the people out to make Vash's life a living hell.  
  
Just like me.  
  
"Well, he's pretty strange. He's got the potential to be the worst thing to ever happen to this planet but he won't even kill a man. Even when they're trying to kill him. Guy's an idiot." This was common knowledge. So it was okay to tell him.  
  
"I know all that," Midvalley scoffed a bit, "I'm asking what it was like to be with him. Talk to a guy like that."  
  
I couldn't figure out for the life of me why Midvalley was curious about that. I suspected he was just trying to make small talk to help me ignore the various dull aches nagging at my senses. I really didn't have a good answer though.  
  
"It's..... interesting."  
  
He laughed again at my answer, shaking his head. "You sound like a broken record, Nick."  
  
I guess I do. "I guess I do."  
  
---  
  
I knew I was being stupid. Staring at him like this. I couldn't help it though.... never could. He's so damned.... I don't want to say beautiful, because he's not pretty. He's not soft. But he's.... hell, I don't know how to describe it.  
  
Legato roughed him up pretty nicely. Drugging him was a neat trick, I'll admit that. Wish he hadn't been so rough, that cut on his shoulder is pretty good.... but it could've been worse. A lot worse. So I should probably stop complaining.  
  
I keep waiting to make my move, but every time there seems to be a decent chance, I pull back. Hell, I was on top of him, straddling his hips just a few minutes ago! Why didn't I.... What the he--Geez, that scared me. I wish you wouldn't make sudden moves like that in my peripheral vision, Nick. It'd get any assassin worth his morning coffee jumpy.  
  
It wasn't so bad though. Only a head resting on my shoulder. I'm wondering if maybe Legato over-did it.... Nick was going to have to take off soon again, to look for that other blonde monster, and this was going to be one of my last chances with him for a while. I didn't want to have to wait for another day, which would happen if he passed out comfortably on my shoulder right there.  
  
So I tilted my head to the side and down, and murmured fondly into his hair. "You fall asleep, and I'll kill you."  
  
He grunted, a soft annoyed noise. Cute. "I'm not going to fall asleep. You're just a hell of a lot more comfortable than this wall." That could be a nice pick-up line, if adjusted properly.  
  
He was pretty out of it, the drug still affecting him probably, so I was relatively positive he wouldn't notice what I was going to do. Carefully, just in case I was proved wrong, I kissed the top of his head. I paused then. No reaction. Good! .... for the moment.  
  
Still careful, I planted another kiss into the dark mess of his hair and moved my hands to slowly explore his back and chest. I knew he wasn't asleep then; he inhaled sharply and then growled at me as I tickled his ribs, muttering something about Heaven's vengeance being slow but sure. I laughed, shrugged enough for him to lift his head back off of my shoulder and then kissed him.  
  
It was by no means perfect. He didn't respond at first -- he was either in shock or the drugs and injuries were still taking their toll. Slowly though, his mouth moved against mine and I could breath again.  
  
In retrospect, it was a good thing that Legato had hurt Nick's shoulder like he had. It meant there wasn't any black jacket and buttoned white shirt underneath to fight through. He really _was_ ticklish, sensitive. He would jump and shiver and gasp as my hands moved over his sides and stomach. I made sure to mark his throat with my lips and teeth, leaving a small bruise against his already dark skin. Trivial and fading as it was, I wanted to make some sort of claim on him, no matter what the future brought.  
  
It was a little difficult to coax him out of his pants. He shook his head, told me to knock it off and even kicked at me. Caught me a little off-guard at first; Nick isn't the type of guy to tease and then not follow through. Least, that's how it always seemed to me. Maybe it was that last hope at being a semi-decent priest kicking in. Still, priest or not, when I pressed my palm up to the front of his pants and felt his excitement, his struggles stopped. I suppose he just needed a little nudge in the right direction.  
  
For a priest though, he certainly didn't seem to believe in underwear.  
  
I wanted him, badly. I still can't describe him, how he looked spread out for _me_, at that moment. 'Sexy' just doesn't do a man like that justice.  
  
I stripped quickly -- ah, the joys of wearing a simple suit -- and found the bottle of lotion I'd brought with me. I have a few personal mottoes, and one of them is always be prepared. You never know who's behind the next corner, holding a gun. Hey, they might have a cute ass.  
  
He hissed softly as I pressed slicked fingers inside of him, his hands grasping and kneading at my shoulders. I guessed this was the first time he'd done this, though I didn't ask. Sometimes, you just don't need to. I stretched him, gently as I could, vowing mentally not to hurt him. I know I was the cause of his most recent pain, his most recent wound, and it wouldn't happen again. I would never hurt my fascinating, contradicting, sexy and cute priest. _Mine_. Something Legato couldn't take away from me.  
  
Nick whimpered when I removed my fingers, panting a little. He was already excited from my earlier teasings and his wound, no matter how absolutely non life threatening it was, was taxing him. I'd have to make this relatively quick, which wasn't the best option but it would do for the moment. There was always the possibility of a 'next time', right? With that thought in mind, I moved inside of him in a single, smooth stroke.  
  
I didn't care then what the future held. If I was to die the next day and if he was to run off and marry some blonde bimbo and have fifty snot nosed brats. At that particular moment I was between Nicholas D. Wolfwood's legs and everything was alright with the world.  
  
The pace was frenzied, hurried. He bit me a few times, along my shoulders, probably in retribution for the discomfort my first push inside of him caused. In return, I wrapped my arms around him, stroked his back, and murmured endearments in his ear I prayed to any God listening were too soft for him to hear and notice. The room was most quiet, save for the sounds of flesh moving within flesh and our panting. Finally, he exploded against me, biting down on my shoulder hard to muffle his scream. I came not soon after, the tightening of his muscles around me more than I could bear. I think I screamed too. Funny, I'm not usually a screamer.  
  
We stayed like that for who knows how long. I certainly don't. There was a lot of gasping for air, a little coughing on his part and then silence. I kissed his temple fondly. Cute. He really was. It wasn't the best word to describe him, and he'd probably throttle me if I ever called him that to his face, but he was. I pulled out of him slowly, sighing at the loss of heat.  
  
"Nick?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Hey, Nick?"  
  
My cute minister in nothing but a bandage had fallen asleep.  
  
I cleaned myself up with a towel -- always be prepared -- and redressed, smoothing any of the larger wrinkles out of my white suit. With some difficulty, I managed to get him back into his pants before slinging him over a shoulder and heading out of the room. No one questioned me in the hotel; it was a cheap, ratty little place. My kind of place. I did get a few odd looks once I got outside, but most decent folk were already snug at home in their beds. The type of people who were out and about at this time of the night probably would have been less surprised if I had been carrying a corpse instead of a half dressed injured man. Back in the fancier hotel, the odd looks increased, all from the staff. They act like they've never seen a sharp dressed horn player waltz into their place with a half naked priest slung over a shoulder. Well, maybe they hadn't.  
  
I headed back into the room I was sharing with Legato, ignored his golden eyed stare and set Nick gently down on my bed. He curled up almost immediately with a soft sigh, nuzzling the pillow.  
  
Damn cute.  
  
"Did you have a good time?" Legato's voice came from the door way. He sounded smug.  
  
"Mm."  
  
"He's leaving tomorrow. Orders just came in from our Master about it."  
  
".... mm."  
  
I guess two days had been too much to ask for after all. Figured. It was times like these when I wondered if there really was a God. If there was, he must have one hell of a sense of humor. Or maybe Legato's right about Knives being God. That would explain a lot.  
  
I jumped a bit as Legato's arm wrapped around my waist. That man could move quieter than sand across the desert when he wanted to. A voice purred into my ear. "Don't worry. I'll still be here." 


	4. Wolfwood & Vash

manga/anime cross notes :  
  
1) Between the usual Trigun manga and Trigun Maximum (i.e. right after the fifth moon incident), Vash's hair changes colours. It goes from the usual blonde to half blonde (in the front) and half black/brown (in the back). This is included because the reason for this change is really freaking nifty, imo, though it's also a giant manga spoiler. (the reason won't be mentioned in the fic, but if you're interested, either get the manga or give me an e-mail and I'll explain it to the best of my ability)  
  
Tongari = Wolfwood's little nickname for Vash. In the anime subs, it's translated as "needle noggin" though I've heard it also as "broom head" or "brush head". It's basically a reference to Vash's hair ^_^;  
  
  
  
---  
  
  
  
The smoke drifted up around his head, heading towards the ceiling. Or Heaven, Wolfwood thought, if you felt like being poetic about it. He hoped he wasn't causing too many little angels coughing fits up there.  
  
Wolfwood was brought back down to reality as a warm weight suddenly made itself known against his side. He grinned at the drunken blonde in red who was leaning against him for support, stubbing out his cigarette into an ash tray. He patted his drinking companion on the back lightly, earning a slurred murmur in response, before propping the girl more against the bar than himself and slipping away. Wolfwood knew he was starting to develop a weakness for blondes, though part of him suspected he'd always had it; it wasn't his usual style to buy a girl five drinks and not even think about taking her back to the hotel room. He could take her back anyways, he supposed, but he didn't like to share.  
  
And anyone with any sense of beauty at all would have immediately forgotten all about their priestly host the moment they laid eyes on that man in red waiting for him.  
  
Wolfwood stopped by a small store -- thanking God that they were open this time of night as he did so -- and picked up some donuts to appease the whines and complaints he was sure would be coming to him. He'd promised Vash that he'd bring back either a drink or a girl and since he had neither.... well, donuts would do. Vash would probably like those better anyways. Then again, maybe not better than the girl -- and dammit, he really was going to go broke on blondes!  
  
Cursing a little to himself, Wolfwood entered the small hotel, heading to his shared room with the Humanoid Typhoon. At least, he thought, he wasn't paying for the rooms. The two men had gotten on their knees -- he was almost positive Vash kissed Meryl's feet at least once -- and begged for the girls to pay for the rooms. Milly had been a pretty easy sell; she had a good heart. Meryl, however, tended to be a tightwad and Wolfwood thought she'd probably rather dance naked on a table top than lend them that much cash again. Least she'd finally caved when Vash rolled over and begged. Literally.  
  
"Yo Tongari!" he greeted brightly, giving the other man a grin and nod as he entered the room, closing the door with his foot behind him. Vash looked up from the complimentary newspaper he'd been reading and opened his mouth to protest about the lack of booze and bimbos before shutting it immediately, noticing the box of donuts.  
  
"Hey Wolfwood! Those for me?" Vash got up and circled the priest, eyes lit up like a child's at Christmas. Wolfwood chuckled inwardly, watching the tall blonde fidget and drool.  
  
"I forgot about the drink," Wolfwood explained as he handed the box over to Vash, who let out something of a squeal of glee and began to devour them, "And I'm afraid none of the girls where interested in a 'tall, dark and dangerous goofball'."  
  
Vash frowned at him and made a muffled sound that Wolfwood was pretty sure would have been 'Cruel!' if not for the amount of baked goods current stuffed in Vash's cheeks. The dark haired man laughed and made his way over to the small table Vash had been sitting at a moment earlier, leaning back into one of the chairs with a sigh and a stretch. Vash followed him over, chewing down some more donuts -- really, the guy inhaled those like most people did air, Wolfwood thought -- and sat in the chair next to him. "Slow night then?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Vash waved absently at the window, the five moons hanging pale and silent in the sky. "I mean it's not even midnight yet! And you're not even drunk! .... are you coming down with something maybe?" Wolfwood sweatdropped as a gloved hand was placed against his forehead.  
  
"I'm fine," he said, smacking Vash's hand away lightly, "There just wasn't much to do." Vash made a soft noise of understanding.  
  
"So.... What should we do? I'm not even tired!" Vash sulked, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
Wolfwood shrugged a bit. He of course had a few ideas on how to pass the time, but wasn't sure if his companion would appreciate them. "We could always head back out."  
  
Vash shook his head mournfully. "No way. You remember what the insurance girls said."  
  
"Ah, right...." He'd forgotten about that. Meryl had demanded that Vash stay in the hotel room _at all times_ after 8pm -- unless outside circumstances like him being blown out the window by a new group of bounty hunters resulted. Vash had tried to sneak out earlier, only to be confronted by a literally hissing dark haired girl, and he'd promptly scuttled back up the wall and into the room. Wolfwood thought the insurance girl was definitely over reacting at first.... until he remembered all of the trouble a genuine drunk-off-his-ass Vash(tm) brought. They'd almost been hung at the last town when the Stampede decided to glomp the Mayor's daughter.  
  
"We could play a game."  
  
Vash blinked over at his friend. "A game? Like a board game?"  
  
Wolfwood grinned and shook his head as he reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a well-worn pack of cards. "Not quite."  
  
"But I'm almost broke!" The gunman complained, looking at the cards with trepidation. Wolfwood couldn't blame him; the guy really did seem to have the worst luck of anyone on the planet. Which made him a bad traveling companion but a damn good fellow to gamble with.  
  
"So am I!" That was Vash's fault. And that other blonde's, he supposed, but she wasn't here to pay up so his friend would have to do. Wolfwood wondered absently if there was a patch for blondes like there was for nicotine. Of course, Vash's hair wasn't quite perfectly sun coloured anymore....   
  
"But...."  
  
"Listen, do you want to play or stare at the moons all night until we pass out due to boredom?"  
  
There was a pause. "I think I'll stare at the moons," Vash said as he got up. Wolfwood almost fell out of his chair.  
  
"T-Tongari...."  
  
"What? It was your suggestion! And besides, they're really pretty on clear nights like these," Vash said, settling down in a cross legged position under the window, the box of donuts in his lap. Wolfwood sighed a little before putting his cards away and moving across the room to sit on the floor next to the outlaw. He watched Vash out of the corner of his eye for a long moment, wondering at the sudden almost sad look in the other's eyes and followed his gaze to -- ah. The fifth moon stared back down at the two, it's otherwise almost spotless surface marred by a massive crater.  
  
That entire incident was still strange. The entire city of Augusta engulfed in that unholy light.... a man who had the power to pull a hole in the moon iles and iles away..... It was even more bizarre that the man who'd done it, the 'monster' as some called him, was sitting right next to him with sorrow barely tangible -- but _there_ -- under his usual mask with a mostly empty box of donuts in his lap.  
  
It really was strange.  
  
And it was starting to hurt to watch Vash's expression. Well, there was a way to fix that....  
  
"Hey, pass me a donut."  
  
"What?!" Vash's gaze snapped away from the moons to Wolfwood. "No way! These are mine!" He clutched the box protectively to his chest, glaring.  
  
Wolfwood frowned. "I'm the one that paid for them!"  
  
"And then you gave them to me!"  
  
"Ch', this is what I get for giving free food to an outlaw like you."  
  
"What's me being an outlaw got to do with anything?!"  
  
"Just give me a damn donut!" Wolfwood lunged for the other man who let out a yelp and scrambled out of the way -- almost. Wolfwood caught hold of Vash's right wrist -- the donut box was being held precariously in the left -- and lunged for him again. He connected this time, seeing as how it was difficult to dodge someone when they had a hold on you, and the two wrestled, a flurry of red and black tumbling across the hard wooden floor. Next door, two insurance girls blinked sleepily before exchanging a knowing glance and curling up against each other in their own tangle of limbs.  
  
Wolfwood grinned in victory as he finally managed to pin the blonde gunman. It was no easy task; Nicholas might be a little stronger from carrying around the cross all the time, but Vash was quick and slippery enough to dodge bullets so getting and maintaining a decent hold on the man wasn't exactly a simple stroll through the sand dunes. Vash squirmed a little, trying to break free of the grip on his arms, but Wolfwood continued to sit on the small of the other's back, waiting for him to tire himself out. After another few minutes of cursing and struggling, Vash finally stilled.  
  
"Alright, you can have a donut," Vash said grudgingly, pointing towards the box with his chin. It had gotten tossed during their scuffle and was now sitting a bit away from them, a little crinkled but none of the worse for wear, considering.  
  
"Changed my mind," the priest said cheerfully. He wondered if the alcohol was starting to effect him.... no, it would have kicked in a long time ago. Besides, he hadn't had that much to drink. That wouldn't keep him from using it as an excuse if he needed to in the morning though.  
  
"YOU CHANGED YOUR MIND?!" Vash yelled and Wolfwood grimaced a bit, hoping he wouldn't bring the girls running in.  
  
"Will you be quiet?! And I decided I wanted something else."  
  
Vash sweatdropped. "I don't have any money." A pause. "And you can't have my gun."  
  
Wolfwood made a face and shifted enough to give Vash a light kick in the side with his heel. "It's not that!"  
  
"But I don't have anything else!"  
  
He couldn't be this dense, Wolfwood thought. Despite his incredibly bizarre and idiotic antics -- striking weird poses and laughing maniacally suddenly become almost an art form with him around -- Vash was quick. He was blindly, stupidly, naive sometimes about human nature, yes, but the man wasn't the moron he liked to pretend he was.  
  
Wolfwood sighed a little to himself. If he was going to play the bumbling idiot role, then fine. He'd just have to be a little more obvious then.  
  
Vash blinked as Wolfwood moved against his back again instead of saying anything or showing any sign of letting him go, glancing over a shoulder to look at the minister in black. "Wolfwood?" He shifted in an effort to free his arms, but Wolfwood silently kept his grip on Vash firm. Vash sighed a bit to himself and relaxed completely under his friend, waiting to hear whatever, likely bizarre, demand the priest would have.  
  
He jumped then a bit at the feel of Wolfwood's warm breath fanning out over the back of his neck. "H-Hey, Wolfwood?"  
  
Wolfwood planted a soft kiss just under the streak of dark hair on the back of Vash's neck. "That's the weirdest thing...."  
  
"H-Huh?" Vash was wrenched his attention away from the shrieking, panicked little voice that was screaming 'He just kissed me!' and back to Wolfwood's words, hoping maybe it would be an explanation.  
  
He just....  
  
"How your hair changed colour like that.... I thought you dyed it at first."  
  
What....? He.... what.... what the hell was going on in that guy's head?! Vash shook his head slowly, still watching Wolfwood the best he could without turning his head around a full 180 degrees. "No.... it happened after Augusta...."  
  
"Do you know why?" Wolfwood pressed his face into the odd, dark strands. They almost didn't seem to fit the gentle man underneath him. Something so black and striking on something so pure.... It seemed almost a worse mark than the scars.... It really was weird.  
  
"I.... don't have a clue," Vash said, swallowing nervously. "Um.... Nick.... can I ask what you think you're doing?"  
  
"Don't call me that." Wolfwood's voice was harsh, surprising the gunman for a moment. Still, he didn't press. He knew, better than some, that everyone had their secrets and their weird habits and what they would and would not talk about for a reason.   
  
"Will you at least tell me what you're doing then?" Vash squirmed a little in another effort to get free as Wolfwood's lips touched the back of his neck again.  
  
The corner's of Wolfwood's mouth quirked upwards slightly. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time."  
  
Vash gasped softly as the other man softly kissed his earring, the silver winking and flicking slightly in the lamp light. "Wolfwood...." This wasn't right, Vash decided suddenly. He needed to know _why_ -- why they had gone from talking and fighting like usual to Wolfwood having him pinned and kissing down the side of his jaw. And he needed to know _now_. "Wolfwood, knock it off," he said firmly.  
  
There was a pause. Vash tried not to shiver at the feel Wolfwood's warm breath over his now slightly damp skin. "What if I don't?"  
  
He did shiver then at the implication. ".... you wouldn't," Vash said lowly after another pause. He knew. Wolfwood wouldn't hurt him.  
  
".... you're right," Wolfwood said with a long sigh. Vash blinked as his arms were finally released and Wolfwood moved off of him, heading back over to sit at the table. He pulled himself up into a sitting position and stretched out his right arm, working the blood back into his hand, and watched Wolfwood who was lighting up a cigarette in the edge of his vision.  
  
He'd had lovers before, in his long life time, of both gender but.... He didn't really like it. No, that wasn't it, Vash decided. He adored the soft touches, the whispers and the feeling of warm arms surrounding him. It was.... It wasn't fair to them. Vash gave a little piece of himself to each of them, but none of them ever truly _had_ him. None of them ever knew the entire story and the entire person of Vash the Stampede. And none of them ever would. He couldn't bear to tell anyone.... about each hurt he'd suffered on this sad excuse of a planet, about how he hated and loved his twisted brother, about how much he missed Rem every single day, about himself. They'd all found out pieces, little bits of himself that he chose to give, just to them; but even if each of his past lovers had all gotten together and put their pieces together they'd only have half of the puzzle solved.  
  
Wolfwood knew more than most. He knew about Knives, he knew more about Vash's personality than Vash himself seemed to sometimes -- he was oddly reminded of Rem at that -- and he knew about how possibly and incredibly destructive Vash could be. The only people on the planet who possibly knew Vash better than Wolfwood were Knives -- maybe Legato, Vash wasn't sure how much information Knives had given his 'pet' -- and of course Vash himself. Wolfwood seemed to accept most of it; he didn't agree with Vash's love and peace and 'stupid pacifist ideals', but he accepted it as a part of the whole.  
  
Would it be worth it? Would it be worth losing another love to the sound of a gun or to the ticking clock of time? No matter how happy he was, no matter how tightly he clung to that joy and that person, he always lost them. Could he take it again? That feeling of utter loss, that feeling of forever losing another piece of himself.... Was it really worth it?  
  
"You wanna stop staring at me?"  
  
Yes, Vash decided firmly, it was.  
  
"I have a right to stare! You've been acting weird all night," Vash declared, standing up and brushing off the front of his jacket.  
  
Wolfwood shrugged a little, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke into the air. "Maybe I had too much to drink."  
  
"Now that's a stupid excuse," Vash said, making a face, "You're not even wobbly!" Wolfwood shrugged again and let out a squawk of protest as Vash strode over and snatched the cigarette out of Wolfwood's fingers and stubbed out into an ashtray on the table top.  
  
"Hey Tongari! What's the big idea--" Wolfwood froze in shock as Vash's lips claimed his own. When Vash had told him to knock it off, to stop, earlier he'd thought.... Not to mention that expression that had formed on his features the moment Nicholas' lips had brushed over his skin.... That worried, almost afraid look.... He didn't like it. He didn't like that he had been the person to cause that half-fear to manifest in the depths of blue-green eyes.  
  
Vash broke the kiss slowly and almost laughed at Wolfwood's surprised expression. Mustering up as much innocence as he could -- and trying not to resembling Milly in the process -- Vash questioned, "I'm sorry, wasn't that what you wanted?"  
  
"Actually, I wanted a little more than _that_," Wolfwood said after a moment of staring, trying to figure out for a brief second if the skirt-chasing, donut-hogging idiot in red had suddenly been replaced by a pod person. After deciding Vash wasn't a pod person, a predatory grin spreading out slowly over the priest's features.  
  
"..... ah?"  
  
Vash only had time to blink before he found himself tackled back down to the floor. He didn't bother to fight back this time; this was something they both wanted anyways. 


End file.
